


On Sunday, Redux

by valis2



Series: On Sunday [2]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valis2/pseuds/valis2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nickygabriel wondered what Cody was thinking in "On Sunday," and I thought, wow, I wonder that, too.  Second in the "On Sunday" series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Sunday, Redux

On Monday, Cody's sitting on the fantail with Nick, and it's business as usual. Nick's going on about bad fuel and the Mimi, and Cody's nodding in what he hopes are the appropriate moments, enjoying a cold bottle of beer and the warm afternoon sun.

Nick flexes his bare, deeply tanned legs, putting his feet up on the fantail seat.

Cody's seen it a hundred times before, maybe two hundred, but this time he is completely unprepared for his reaction. It's electrifying, like a flash of lightning has struck him in the chest. His brain seizes and everything freezes and there's nothing but the stab of wicked heat in his groin, and then he realizes that he's just poured beer down his shirt.

He mumbles an excuse, fleeing for the head, and pulls off his shirt and stares at himself in the mirror.

His brain circles, making him woozy. Nick. Nick. Nick. He thinks of him with every pulse of his heart.

He tells himself it will go away. Just a crossed wire. He can't really be attracted to Nick, right?

On Tuesday, they're working on the Mimi, and Cody tries not to watch Nick, this time demurely attired in his work overalls. He tries not to notice the intense way Nick stares at Mimi's carbeurator, the way the muscle in his jaw tenses as he unscrews a bolt, the way his strong hands curl around the handle of the screwdriver--

He takes a deep breath, turns the other way, focuses on cold water and glaciers and Mama Jo on a glacier. He's clutching a hammer like it's a life preserver. He's too warm and it's all too intense and there's a scuff of a shoe behind him, startling him, and he turns too quickly and the hammer falls from his hand, hitting Nick squarely on a toe.

It's a good thing, because how could he have explained the condition of his suddenly-too-tight pants otherwise?

On Wednesday, Cody gets up and insists that everything will be just fine. He'll make breakfast. Toast and coffee and eggs, and it will all downshift into something normal and he will stop dreaming of Nick doing terribly naughty things to his nude body. Yes. That is exactly what will happen. He will make the coffee, and like a magic potion, it will pull every wicked thought out of his head and replace them with nice, safe things like kittens and rainbows and pretty new sweaters.

Nick comes into the galley, slightly spoiling his vision of kittens sliding down rainbows, and for a moment the pretty new sweater is being torn off his body and--no, that is just wrong. He refuses to think it any further. This toast, now, this toast will fortify him against the hot magnetic pulse of Nick sitting so near.

The toast does not help.

Eggs. These are his last hope. He whisks them efficiently, pretending that he is Orpheus and he mustn't look over his shoulder or all will be lost. He pours the eggs into the pan.

He looks over his shoulder.

Nick is reading a book, deep in concentration, his beautiful, sensual lips moving, mouthing a word, and suddenly Cody feels all of the blood in his body pooling in his groin and his entire being is aflame with desire and he wants nothing more than to pull Nick down on the seat and rut against him until they both explode. Fortunately, none of his muscles are responding, except for the one in his pants, which is quite enthusiastic.

All is lost.

Nick finally looks up, and Cody realizes that the eggs are burning.

On Thursday, Cody goes to bed, and he can feel Nick lying not three feet away. He's like a geyser of fire. Cody swears he can feel the heat of his body licking--stop, stop it, he can't possibly think of licking or he will die. The glaciers melt, the cold water evaporates, even Mama Jo leaves in a huff, and all Cody can think about is the wanting.

A noise. Nick makes a sweet little moan that goes directly to Cody's cock, seizing his entire nervous system. He can't remember how to breathe.

"Katie," murmurs Nick. He licks his lips.

This is the wrongest thing he's ever done, and he knows, deep down, that all the different kinds of wrongness are piling up on each other and that he will have to spend time in many different layers of hell for this, but it's as if he's possessed. He gets out of bed and kneels next to Nick, and in the scant moonlight he sees those lips that have been torturing him all week, and he can't help himself, he has to have one taste. One taste, and then he'll be done, it will be over. This is the cure, to feel those delicious soft lips against his own, to map their fullness with his tongue, to breathe with him, to breathe through him, to feel nerve endings igniting and sweeping over his skin, to taste the fire--

It's even more all lost. He comes to himself, suddenly realizing that he's on his knees next to Nick's bunk with a cock so hard he could hammer nails, and he's just kissed Nick, and if Nick wakes up right now there is no amount of explaining that could possibly fix this situation.

In the head, he brings himself off quickly. Efficiently. This will let him sleep. Tomorrow he'll be over this. He'll have some toast, scope out the _Contessa_, and it'll all be new again, he will not be thinking about Nick and Nick's lips and Nick's tongue and Nick's cock--

He has to bite his hand to muffle the cry he makes when he comes.

On Friday, they're on a stakeout. Cody hasn't even had time to look at the _Contessa_. They've been on the go all morning, and now they're creeping up to the gate of a mansion, and he's right behind Nick. He's getting desperate. He wants everything to settle down. Calm down. He's done. He had a kiss, which is more than he could--should--hope for.

He can't help but look at the muscles in Nick's back, outlined by the tight t-shirt he's wearing, the black hair, slightly mussed, his ass--

He's not done. Nothing is working. Not toast. Not glaciers. Not even a kiss.

Thinking of the kiss starts the fire, reminds him of the heat of Nick's body, the feel of his lips, and he suddenly collides with Nick, who's stopped without warning. A loud squeak escapes his throat before he can stop it, and Nick looks at him sharply, surprised and slightly annoyed for a moment.

The dogs start barking. There are guns and shouts and it all ends the way it usually does.

On Saturday, Cody feels shaky and sick to his stomach. He tries not to think of Nick, constantly nearby, reminding him of the ache in his heart. That's what it is now, a constant ache, crippling him with its intensity.

He can count on one hand the times he's been so lovesick. And this is the worst of them all, this one is like the ocean in a fury, all high waves and foam and torrential wind, just all happening in the tight space in his chest. He's dizzy from it.

A long walk on the pier doesn't help.

A nice cigar does nothing.

He doesn't even bother with toast.

He sits in the wheelhouse for a long, long time, staring out into the bay.

On Sunday, he wakes up with a new mission. Bring his heart to heel. Stamp it down, push all of these feelings into the well, bury it under rocks. He doesn't bother with breakfast, just a cup of Nick's much-too-strong coffee, and he sits on the fantail for a very long time before going back down to his bunk. He pulls out a magazine and the words blur and splotches appear on the pages. He blinks and realizes he's crying, and feels like a fool. This is just another storm, he tells himself. Just another dark, cloudy moment that he will get through and then he'll be on the other side. He'll try toast again and it will work this time and he'll be fine.

He hears footsteps, and looks up to see Nick coming into the room, his face lit with an unfamiliar expression. Cody lets the page of the magazine slide away from his fingertips.

"Hey," says Nick.

"Yeah?" Cody forces himself to look up, pictures the ocean at rest, the glassy surface of the water. He's almost got it, he can feel the storm receding into the well, he thinks he might be able to do this.

But then he sees blue eyes, breathtaking, even more beautiful than the sea, and he can't help but feel a wave of emotion pass over him.

And then Nick leans down and kisses him.

It's so much more intense, so much more gorgeous and it makes him melt inside and he can't draw a breath. He moans and grabs Nick with both hands, not wanting him to slip away, wanting this moment to last forever. His heart is overfull, everything swirling about inside him, and he can't think. He only knows the heat of the mouth against his, the feel of Nick's hands pulling his clothes away until they're both naked, pressed against each other, the springs of the bunk protesting against their combined weight. Love and raw passion and that delicious fire passes between them, consuming him, and he's lost, completely lost in Nick.

On Monday, he stays in Nick's arms all day long.


End file.
